


12. Don't Move

by titC



Series: Whumptober 2019 [12]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Minor Foggy Nelson/Marci Stahl, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-10-18 07:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20635097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: Bad people find Foggy one evening.





	12. Don't Move

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Whumptober](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/) for organizing it and [PixelByPixel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PixelByPixel) for the beta!  


“Don’t move.”

“Not moving here. A statue, I am.” Shit, Foggy’s mouth was in run-on mode. “Not moving a finger, very still, that's me! Ha ha.” Oh God.

“Shut up.” The guy closest to him waved a giant knife in Foggy’s face, and Foggy nodded jerkily. Okay, big-ass blade, not good. He knew blades, he grew up around blades, he was almost a butcher, he – okay, could his _brain_ shut up, too?

He’d just been going home, minding his own business; why should this happen? Well, why shouldn't it; this was the Kitchen after all. He’d lived here all his life, he _knew_ this happened. He’d just hoped it wouldn't because he was the guy who kept these stab-happy folks out of jail, right?

Wrong.

And that’s how Foggy Nelson, Lawyer Extraordinaire, found himself with a fucking machete way too close to his nose and no one to help. No one was watching over the Kitchen that night; it was one of those nights when Matt was staying in after one too many rough nights. In fact, he’d just spent the evening with Matty; he’d marched him home, demanded he changed into comfy clothes, fed him, poured beer down his throat, burrito-ed him, and generally made sure that Our Local Hero was too drowsy to even _think_ of jumping out of the nearest window. Maybe he was going to _dream_ of it, but he’d sleep.

Matt had been coming in later and later at work all through the week; there had been badly hidden winces and hastily covered bloodstains and swollen knuckles and really, that wasn’t how one built a successful, reputable law firm. Matt had (reluctantly) agreed, and after the third beer he’d already been drooling on Foggy’s shoulder. That had been, what, thirty minutes ago? Foggy was pretty sure there still was a damp patch on that shoulder.

The same shoulder a second thug was poking at with a fucking gun oh God oh God oh God. He was holding it sideways, like a wannabe gangster from TV. Okay, one knife, one gun, and a few other shadows lurking a little further away. He was dead. Foggy was a dead man. Technically still standing, but really – dead.

And, also, definitely not moving. One step forward and he was walking in the meat cleaver, one step back and, yep, that felt like a baseball bat right over his kidneys, and then there was the gun. Right. No, not right. Wrong. It was very, very wrong, and he was sweating and disgusting and terrified. He’d already been shot and stabbed (sort of) in his life, and previous experience did _not_ make him feel better prepared. At all.

He didn’t even dare reach for his wallet.

“So, counselor.” Shit. Were they going to take his messenger bag? There wasn’t much in it, nothing that couldn't be replaced or that was sensitive. Foggy did like this bag, though; it had been a gift from his parents when he’d graduated from law school.

He pressed his lips together, and didn’t answer.

“We know who you are.” Apparently. “We know you’re buddies with Daredevil, and we know you helped Melvin Potter get out of jail.”

They paused, and Foggy thought maybe a nod was warranted. He thought if he tried to speak it would be a humiliating squeak, at this point.

“Potter squealed on our gang, and Daredevil left them hog-tied on the police’s doorstep. You, my friend, are going to lead us to them and watch us cut them up in little bits. And then…” Foggy thought sliding the blade along his neck was a bit overkill, but it was still an effective move.

“Yes but, uh. If you’re going to murder me anyway, why should I give you anything?” _Shut up, Foggy_.

“Because there’s the quick version, and the long version.” _Yep, should definitely shut up_.

“I’m not giving you anything. I mean, my wallet, if you’d like? But not anything else.” _Why am I still speaking?_

Suddenly the knife was out of his sight; something was really, really hurting in his back and his face was in a puddle. New York puddles were really something no one wanted to have their face in, and that was probably why Foggy lost consciousness in the end. The puddle.

Hospital beeps, dull throbbing everywhere, and Marci’s voice not far away.

“Gnggn,” he tried.

“Foggy Bear!” Her heels clacked and she was by his side. “I was so worried, but you’re all right now. Well, you’re _safe_; you’ve got one broken rib but it could have been so much worse.” She had cool dry hands and he loved her very much.

“How?” It came out like _hww_.

“I called Danny,” and what was _he_ doing here?

“M’ty?”

“Yes.”

“Yer s’posed to rest.”

“I heard them, Fogs. I wasn’t about to let them hurt you, so I called Jess, and she said Danny was closer. Foggy, why did you antagonize them?”

“You heard all that?” Marci said.

“Uh, Danny told me.”

Foggy could guess from Marci’s face she wasn’t buying it. Matt was a lousy liar sometimes. They should tell her, if she hadn’t already guessed. She had top-notch brains, Marci had. “You’re smart,” Foggy told her earnestly.

“You’re so high, Foggy Bear, but soon you’ll be high at home.” She patted his hand and turned to Matt, standing awkwardly near the door with his cane and ratty sweater and the Murdock Look of Woe and Guilt ™ on his face. “Thanks for calling me, too.”

Matt did a sort of shoulder thing then cleared his throat. “I’ll be in early tomorrow, you stay home and rest, yeah?”

“I’ll make sure he does,” Marci said.

Foggy let his eyes close and hoped the good drugs would last until he was in his own bed. He had people watching over him, after all.


End file.
